


lull

by Anonymous



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-04
Updated: 2020-12-04
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:14:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27858165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: a quiet moment after things go downhill. tommy is tired, but not of war.---short improvised thoughts on what could happen on friday
Relationships: Dave | Technoblade & Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit & Phil Watson, Floris | Fundy & Phil Watson, No Romantic Relationship(s), Toby Smith | Tubbo & TommyInnit, TommyInnit & Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), wedding mentioned as a plot beat but shipping is gross
Comments: 1
Kudos: 108
Collections: Anonymous





	lull

"Fundy needs me to stay." Usually, when Phil spoke, it was slow and sure, dripping with the langorous ease of an apex predator secure in its place. Tonight, as Tommy leant against his doorway, it was harried and stumbling. Some wholly unnerving facet of his father was sitting on Fundy's stairs with his head in his hands.

He wanted to scream and rave and shout. He wanted to sob and swear and get his fucking way after so many months of sordid compromise. But one did not argue with Philza Minecraft.

"There's confetti in your hair," he said instead, swallowing thickly around the lump in his throat. There was. It was orange and green, and wasn't that halfway adorable.

"The wedding went well." The conversation would not move fast with two people studiously avoiding the elephant in the room.

Tommy was just grateful for the out, and he took it.

"He knows Dream's just using him, right? It's not Fundy's fault," he clarified, watching dispirited eyes narrow, "he's a bitch but he ain't a fuckin' traitor, alright? He, like..." he rolled his shoulders and hoisted Phil to his feet. "He cares about New L'Manberg."

"I never said anything to the contrary," Phil pointed out, opening his arms for a stiff hug. Of course Tommy accepted, and began to pick the offending debris from Phil's bangs as they stood as one in the lobby and gently swayed. With grief? With anger? He had never been so good at parsing the difference.

After an age they pulled away, and Tommy felt a pang of some other indescribable variation on solemnity in his gut. Phil tossed him a pack and he caught it without looking. When he spoke again, it was tinted with challenge. "Do you think that's the measure of a traitor, Tommy? We've all given up plenty to be here, L'Manbergian or not."

That was inarguable. Studying the inside of his eyelids, Tommy did not need or want to take in again the bedraggled sight of Phil's clipped wings. He dipped his head in acquiescence and packed the supplies he was given in quiet silence.

"Guess I'm out the gang," he tried to joke once, but even to his own solipsistic senses it fell flat. "Exiled, not only from my home, but from the crew." Flat and sour.

"Do you still know the name of Theseus' father?" said Phil softly and suddenly from his brewing stand, and Tommy shook his head so vigorously his hair about doubled in volume. Unlike Techno, it had been a very long time since he had bothered with such tedious lessons as fireside readings of ancient texts. His brothers liked to cloak their intentions in other people's words. He preferred, always, to inscribe in history his own.

"Aegeus," Phil continued. Then he stopped. Sighed. The name meant nothing to Tommy, so he got back to mechanically bundling arrows and hoping. Hoping that Aegeus would be some outlandish metaphor for Phil, and for fathers, and for choosing your fucking child over your bastard grandson who was already a whole man and didn't need your comforting guidance half as fucking much, Phil, please don't leave me alone.

He was not. "Aegeus was the goat-man," and Tommy could not breathe, "famously heirless," and Tommy could not blink, "until the gods gave him Theseus."

He was not Schlatt. He was not, would not, could not be anything like the self-serving bastard who had once been his greatest idol. If anyone, surely that honour would go to Tub-

To-

To T-

"Prime's only god as matters 'nyway," he mumbled sullenly, nonsensical with rage and fatigue, and Phil laughed a sad and low laugh. It was one of his very few unkind mannerisms. It was a sound Tommy had heard time and time again upon breaking expensive vases, losing valuable armour, and ruining rare potions, and it raised the hairs on the back of his neck in gruesome apprehension. Whether the slow snarl of anger it entailed was aimed at him or Dream or even Fundy, Tommy no longed cared. As he hoisted the satchel onto his shoulder and looked down at the churning water below, he knew barely the one thing.

It was time to go.


End file.
